


strawberries and cigarettes

by gayvodkuh



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Cigarettes, Flirting, Fluff, Graffiti, M/M, Songfic, Strangers to Lovers, Strawberries, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 15:48:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayvodkuh/pseuds/gayvodkuh
Summary: Harry kept noticing that while he talked, Louis eyes stay stuck on his lips, blinks slow and calculated.Harry bites his lip, already able to feel the pressure of the other man's kiss.-"strawberries and cigarettes, always taste like you."





	strawberries and cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> Two shot fic based on strawberries and cigarettes by Troye Sivan!

Harry had never really been a party person, but his best friend had dragged him here so he supposed it was fine for just one night.

He hated it. He'd lost Niall ten minutes into the party, the music was shaking the walls and he wanted this to be over.

He finds his way outside. It's dark and the air is crisp and he immediately regrets not wearing a jacket.

He sits down on the curb in front the house, wrapping his arms around himself in attempt to warm himself. What kind of 19 year old left a party twenty minutes in?

"Ah, bloody hell," He hears from behind him. He turns to see what the exclamation was about.

A man stands, he looks just a few years older than Harry, struggling to light a cigarette held between his lips.

Harry looks at him, an amused smile on his lips, "Struggling?" He asks, and the boy huffs a laugh.

"My lighters just about out of fluid," He says, walking over to sit next to Harry. "I don't suppose you've got one on you?"

Harry shakes his head but plucks the lighter out of the others hand, shaking is and hitting it against his hand, a trick he's seen his friends do.

The guys leans forward, cigarette still perched between his lips. Harry takes the hint. It takes just three tries before there's an actual flame, and he quickly lights the cigarette.

The boy nods a thank you, putting the lighter in a pocket of his jean jacket, "Thanks," he says, "Now what's a pretty boy like you doing out here alone? And without a jacket no less."

Harry smiles, enjoying the confidence he feels radiating off the other, "Not really a party person."

He nods, "Lemme guess, you were dragged here by a friend?" He offers Harry the cigarette and he accepts it.

He wasn't a smoker, really, but if someone offered than he wouldn't turn down nicotine. He takes a hit of it before answering, "How'd you know?"

He laughs, "I'm Louis, and you are?"

"Harry," He says, taking another hit and handing it back.

"So, Harry, where's your friend gone?" He asks, and can't help but be a little distracted by how simply pretty the man is.

His face has just a hint of scruff, hair falling across his forehead. Everything about him looked so warm, his hair and smile and skin.

But his eyes? A cold, contrasting blue.

Ah, right, he was asked a question "I dunno," he shrugs, "He thrives at parties, so many people to talk to, so sometimes he just disappears."

Louis nods, taking another long drag of his cigarette in a way that was almost tantalizing to Harry.

He enjoyed being flirted with by pretty men, especially when they looked a little older and more confident than Harry himself.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two," He answers. Ah, it wasn't a big gap, but enough for Louis to be more mature than the guys that usually hit on Harry.

"I'm nineteen," Harry says, jutting his chin upwards slightly almost in a 'im around your age and think you're hot' kind of way.

The man eyes him, just a glance up and down. Harry suddenly wishes he was wearing something a little edgier, he's not sure if his white shirt with pink pinstrips and skinny jeans really is what this guy is looking for.

He was wrong, he finds out, when Louis says "Can I have your number? Maybe it's too soon to ask but clearly there's some sort of energy here," He says, flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the street.

"It's mutual," Harry smiles, "Gimme your phone."

He does, and Harry types in his number with his name and a smiley face.

Louis looks at the contact with a smile, sliding the phone into his pocket and tossing his cigarette to the ground, squishing it under his shoe.

Everything about him is so pretty, so hot, so thoughtful and lovely and just looking at him made Harry shiver.

He smelt a bit like vanilla, a detail that makes Harry just want to close his eyes and be next to him.

"Wanna come inside for a quick drink and dance?" He asks, and Harry thinks that maybe if it was anyone else he would had declined, but being around this man was something he wanted very badly.

"Sure," Harry takes his hand that was offered and stands up, noticing that he stands a good three inches taller than Louis. If the other didn't like that fact, he didn't show any indication.

They walk in and Harry is met by a bustling crowd of people, and he panics for a moment, not quite knowing how to get to the kitchen from this door.

He feels a band on his waist and a voice by his ear, "Don't worry, I got ya."

Louis hand touches him so softly and leads him through the crowd so gently that Harry almost melts.

He may he a tall, lanky, clumsy man but being treated like a princess never ceased to make him feel just a little weak.

Louis grabs an unopened bottle of whiskey from under the kitchen island, and when Harry gives him a curious look he smiles, "This is my house, pretty boy."

He pours them two cups, (very small cups so Harry didn't feel pressured to drink too much). They drink and exchange small talk in the kitchen until Louis places his cup down, "Shall we dance?"

Harry smiles, drinking the last bit of alcohol in his cup and taking Louis hand. He pulls them to the center of he dance floor, holding him close to protect from anyone else.

The people around them are laughing and moving and bustling but all Harry's focused on is Louis' hands on his hips and wrapping his arms around the shorter neck.

It wasn't grinding, technically, but they were so close and every movement brought them closer.

The alcohol in his system makes Harry's mind a little hazy but his confidence is through the roof so he smiles at Louis with one of his award winning grins.

"I like your dimples," Louis says, just loud enough for Harry to hear over the music.

"I like your face," Harry responds. Not the cleverist of his compliments, but the older laughs so it clearly doesn't matter much.

It was strange, to click with someone so fast. Harry was used to not really finding that spark with someone until the second or third date, but within fourty minutes of talking to this boy he knew.

He liked him.

They dance and laugh and take cigarette breaks until the party dies down and they're alone on the back porch, laughing at the wasted people still screaming indoors.

They're sitting on two chairs, Louis holding his fourth cigarette of the night and Harry sipping on a Sprite to try to sober up.

"So, tell me, you enjoy your time tonight, Harry? I know you're not much of a partier."

Harry sighs with a smile, running a ring-clad hand through his hair, "You know what, I did! I was thinking about leaving before we started talking, you know."

Louis looks at him, elbow resting on the arm of the chair and a small smirk on his lips. "Why'd you stay?" He asks.

Harry feels a bit like an exhibit, the way Louis looks at him, and it's overwhelming and strange and he can't get enough of the man's gaze.

"I happen to enjoy your company," Harry shrugs nonchalantly, sipping his drink and watching Louis face for any kind of reaction.

No such luck, though, because his face doesn't crack, "So you're saying you wouldn't mind if I called you one day at three am to graffiti an underpass? Because that's the kind of dates I like."

Harry rests his chin on his hand, pointer finger resting above his lips, "I definitely wouldn't mind."

"Harold!" He hears, and he looks up to see Niall walking towards him, beer in his hand and a sloppy, drunken smile on his face.

"Nialler," he confirms, "Scale of one to ten?" He asks, referring to their system of letting Harry know just how drunk Niall is so he knows how to handle him.

"Solid five," He says, glancing at Louis with a grin. "Tommo!" He greets, "Wicked party mate, I was wonderin' where you were tonight!"

"You know him?" He asks Louis, pointng at his friend.

"Mutual friends, hung out a couple-a-times I reckon. How are you, you blonde disaster?"

"I'm just peachy, about to ask Harry to call an Uber so I can go pass out in our flat," He says, "Harry?"

The younger sighs and nods, pulling his phone out and doing what his friend wanted.

He feels eyes on him as Niall's blabbering about something or another, and Louis gaze meets his.

"Sad to see you go so soon, curly."

Harry feels his face grow warm, "I haven't left your side for like four hours, Louis," he snorts, and Niall gasps.

"Do I sense some flirting among you two? Should I leave?" He says, clapping a dramatic hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Shut up, did you flirt with anyone tonight?" Harry asks, raising his eyebrows at Niall, "That's what I thought."

Louis laughs, standing from his chair and discarding his cigarette butt. "I'd better go try to usher the sloppy drunks out of my house, huh?"

"Niall's already out here," Harry jokes, standing himself so he can pull Niall around front to wait for the Uber.

"I'll call you," Louis says with a smile, "Be ready because It'll be three a.m and I'll have ten cans of spray-paint."

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated and will get the second part out faster ;) mwah!


End file.
